


Angels Don't Get Their Tonsils Out

by fleurofthecourt



Series: Angels Don't Get Sick [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace Cures the Mark of Cain, Case Fic, Castiel in the Bunker, Fluff, Hospitals, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Surgery, Sick Castiel, Sickfic, Tonsilitis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2281692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurofthecourt/pseuds/fleurofthecourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean takes Cas to get his tonsils out, neither of them are really prepared for what appears to be Medusa lurking around the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“My car won’t start." Cas is outside of Dean’s door, his hands splayed at his sides, his eyes wide and manic. “I need to be in downtown Lebanon in an hour.” 

“Hey, okay, no need to panic about the Cas-mobile. I can take a look,” Dean says. Cas doesn’t look at all mollified. “Or, better yet, I can just take you."

Cas’ whole body relaxes. “Thank you, Dean.” 

“What’s so urgent anyway?” Dean asks as he waves Cas back towards the garage. 

Cas hesitates before he sighs and explains, “At Sam’s suggestion, I went to see a doctor about the frequent sore throats I’ve had since becoming human again. It was recommended that I have my tonsils removed. I’m suppose to be at the hospital precisely at 9."

Dean’s pretty sure he misheard all or part of that. Because what. “Wait, back up. You’re having surgery?” 

“Yes, I just said,” Cas says in exasperation.

“And you weren’t going to tell us about it?” Dean says. 

“It’s a routine procedure,” Cas says, like Dean doesn’t know that, “in which there is very little chance of anything going wrong. I didn’t believe it was a matter of concern for you or Sam.” 

“So you were just going to drive yourself back to the bunker while drugged and mime to us about where you disappeared to?” Dean asks. 

“Why would I mime?” Cas asks. 

Dean scrubs a hand down the side of his face because he doesn’t have the patience for this. “You know what? Forget it. Just... let’s get you to the hospital. Come on.” 

They’re halfway down the hall when Sam walks past them, with a box of cereal in hand. “Dean? You’re dressed already? We have a case or something?” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, “a case of Cas not sharing with the class.” 

Sam frowns at them. “Not sharing what?” 

“I was unaware I was meant to inform you that I was having surgery,” Cas says, glowering at the wall. 

“You’re having surgery?” Sam asks, his tone tinged with curiosity and concern. “For what?”

“Cindy Brady here is getting her tonsils out,” Dean says. 

Cas’ glower turns into a confused stare. “Why are you referring to me as a character from a 60s sitcom?” 

“Because he’s an idiot,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “So anyway, Dean’s going with you, so you should be good. But I can come too, if you want.” 

“I believe I will be asleep for most of this,” Cas says, looking progressively more baffled. “I do not see the necessity of either of you being present.” 

“Well, okay,” Sam says uncertainly, “guess I’ll see you when you get back then. Maybe get you some ice cream?” 

“Not ice cream,” Dean says, pinching thoughtfully at his temple. “They always say you can have that on TV. But you can’t. You’re not even suppose to eat it. Not for a couple days. I remember that from when you got yours out... popsicles, though. He can have popsicles.” 

“Once the two of you have finished planning my diet for me, I will be in the car,” Cas says irritably before brusquely continuing down the hall. 

Once he’s out of sight, Sam asks, “Dean, are you going to be okay down there by yourself?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean says. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Well,” Sam says cautiously, “you don’t exactly have the greatest track record with waiting around in hospitals.” 

“Because people I know tend to die in ‘em,” Dean says, then realizes it. “But, come on, Sammy, he’s just getting his tonsils out. It’s not going to be a big deal.” 

And, it shouldn’t be, Dean thinks. Like Cas said, there’s little chance of anything going wrong. 

Except there’s this little voice in the back of Dean’s head telling him that if lightning is going to strike, it’s going to strike on them. 

He decides that it’s best to ignore that voice. 

“Okay, well, call me if either of you stubborn asses change your mind,” Sam says. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean says and heads for the Impala. 

XXX 

Dean has been at the hospital for nearly two hours, and he knows three things: 

1\. Cas has far too many questions, for the hospital staff and Dean’s taste, about the importance of counting backwards under anesthesia: 

_I need to begin with 100? Is that an arbitrary decision? If I don’t count backwards, will I not fall unconscious?_

Dean works out by the fourth question that Cas is more freaked out about this than either of them had bargained for. He wordlessly takes Cas’ hand and smirks at him a little. Cas, damn him, doesn’t look at all embarrassed, just grateful and maybe a little relieved. 

2\. The likelihood that the hospital is not haunted, or something like it, is approximately nil: 

Once Cas is completely knocked out, a well-intentioned nurse leads Dean back to the waiting area and points out several magazines that he has little to no interest in reading. 

He feigns an interest in _People_ just long enough for the nurse to think he’s been helpful before wandering into the adjacent hallway. 

Five minutes later, he’s trying to knock a Coke out of a stubborn vending machine when he notices that the woman at the neighboring machine is not actually being incredibly indecisive. She isn’t moving. Period. 

She’s standing stock still, her index finger poised to touch a button, her head tilted slightly to the side, her expression startled but stagnant. 

Dean waves his hand over her eyes a few times. She doesn’t track his movement. She doesn’t even blink. 

He pokes her shoulder. She’s stiff and cold to the touch. 

That’s odd enough alone. 

But then, once he gets his Coke, he finds a doctor with his pen poised over a clipboard standing frozen in the middle of the hallway. 

Then a man sitting up on a gurney. 

Then a nurse pulling an IV down the hall. 

Then a little boy back in the waiting room. 

All totally petrified. 

3\. Per the first two things, he should probably call Sam. 

So, he does. 

“Dean? I didn’t actually think you were going to call,” Sam says when he answers. Then, his voice laced with concern, “Everything okay? Is Cas okay?” 

“Yeah, Cas is fine. Or, at least, he was twenty minutes ago,” Dean says. He tries not to overthink the fact that he doesn’t know exactly where Cas is at the moment. “Need to find him though. Because, uh, think we’ve got a case.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey buddy, you lucid?” Dean’s leaning over the rail of Cas’ bed in the recovery room, watching as he slowly blinks awake. 

Cas’ immediate reaction to which is to rub a hand at his throat, wince slightly, and push himself back onto the pillow with a soft moan. He doesn’t acknowledge Dean. 

“‘Cause, we kind of need to get you out of here, or something,” Dean says. “Something’s up.” 

At that, Cas rolls towards Dean, squints at him, and tries to say something -- something that sounds a little bit like Dean’s name but mostly like a breathy croak. With a look of utter frustration, he rubs at his throat again and frowns. With what appears to be considerable effort, he whispers, “I believe... attempting to speak normally... is going to be painful.” 

“No shit, Cas,” Dean says with a soft smile before handing him a pad of paper and a pen. “Lucky for you, I thought about this.” 

Cas takes it and writes, _I see now why I would mime._

Dean snorts. “I bet.” 

After a few moments of contemplation, Cas adds, _I don’t think I can walk, Dean. I feel dizzy._

“Yeah, they said that stuff they used to put you under was going to take a few hours to wear off,” Dean says. “But, uh, something like a third of the folks in this joint, your nurse included, have been statue-ified. So, not a great place for you to be right now, capice?” 

Cas rolls his eyes. _If you are hunting something, I’m coming with you._

“Yeah, how?” Dean asks. 

_I’m certain you can find a wheelchair._ Cas writes. 

Dean’s about to argue with him when Sam swings in the door. “So, I spoke to a receptionist in the front lobby, and whatever’s happening has been happening all over the hospital since about 10. No one knows what’s going on and people are really starting to freak out about it."

“‘Course they are,” Dean mutters. 

Cas, meanwhile, jabs his pad of paper at Sam and points to the last two sentences.

“Hey, Cas. Didn’t realize you were awake,” Sam says before looking down at the paper. “Okay...I think there’s one in the hall. You really think that’s a good idea, though?” 

Cas shrugs. _I may be able to help._

Sam turns to Dean as Dean fervently shakes his head. "Dean, we really shouldn't leave him alone like this." 

“We also shouldn’t drag him around the hospital like this,” Dean says. He licks at his lips and wonders if he can or even should downplay how much attention he was paying to what Cas should and shouldn't do post-op. “He’s, uh... well, he’s not really suppose to be moving around right now. Needs to rest and get that dopey gunk out of his system and all that.” 

“Uh huh,” Sam says as he gives Dean _this look._ This look that tells Dean he isn’t fooling Sam in the slightest. 

So he goes ahead and thrusts a plastic cup full of water into Cas’ hands. “Cas, here.” 

Cas isn’t expecting it at all, and some of it sloshes onto his hospital gown. He frowns at it. “You need to drink that. As much of it as you can.” 

Cas continues to frown. “Cas, really, it’ll help.” 

Cas shakes his head, sets the cup down, and picks up his notebook. He taps his pen against the word _wheelchair_. 

“Really?” Dean huffs. “You’re using your well-being as a bargaining chip?” 

_It appears to be working,_ Cas writes. 

It _is_ working. 

Because Dean knows how stubborn Cas is, and he knows if he doesn’t give in, Cas is going to end up lying on the hospital floor because he tried to follow them anyway. 

It’s exactly what he would do. 

“Fine, you jackass. But only because we don’t have time for this,” Dean sighs. “Sam, get whatever wheelchair you saw out there. Cas, drink up."

XXX

“Try not to scare them,” Dean whispers as he pushes Cas into a playroom full of children.

They’re all sitting on the floor, the older ones working on a 1000 piece puzzle depicting the Parthenon, the younger ones gathering building blocks, all of them giving the younger girl and older boy frozen in the corner wary glances at couple second intervals. 

Cas swallows hard before whispering, “I believe they’re already scared.” 

“Okay. Try not to scare them _more_ ,” Dean says. “Just see if they know anything.” 

“Why would they know something?” Cas asks, his voice raspy and half an octave off. 

Dean doesn’t like the sound of it. “Hey, Darth Vader, gave you that notepad for a reason. Use it.” 

Cas huffs then writes, _Why would the children know something?_

“That girl in the corner,” Dean says as he points to her, “She’s patient zero.” 

Cas squints at him then writes, _She was the first to be petrified?_

“Uh, yeah,” Dean says. “That’s what the receptionist told Sam anyway.” 

When Cas nods, Dean pushes him forward towards the children. “Hey kids, this is Cas. Cas is....well, he's going to ask you about your buddies over in the corner. Can’t really talk right now though, so you got to read what he writes. Can you do that?"

A few of them nod. A few ask Cas why he can't talk and why he's in a wheelchair. A few ask if Cas is some kind of detective or police officer. 

Dean takes Cas' bemused regard of the children and their questions as well as his sudden flurry of writing as his cue to leave. 

XXX

When Sam and Dean come back from questioning the supervisor of the children's ward, they find Cas leaning over a wastebasket with one of the older girls standing anxiously at his side. She launches into explanation as soon as she sees them, "He threw up. He said he'd never done it before. I think he was scared." 

“I was unprepared,” Cas amends as he pulls himself up, his face drawn, pale, and shimmering with a sheen of sweat. His voice is utterly wrecked, but apparently that is still not a deterrent from speaking. "Vomiting is not a pleasant experience." 

“No kidding,” Dean says as he grabs a box of tissues from a counter and hands them to Cas. “Well, hey, wipe your mouth off for now. We’ll go find you some more water.” 

Cas nods his assent before reaching for the notepad he’s tucked between the side of the wheelchair and his side. He hands it to Dean. “One of the petrified children, the older boy, was telling the others about the gorgon from Greek mythology named Medusa.” 

“Really?” Sam asks. “You think we’re up against Medusa?”

Cas shakes his head shortly before urgently reaching out for the wastebasket. As he brings up what little is left in his stomach, Dean reaches out tentatively before awkwardly resting his hand against Cas' back. “See, Sam? I knew dragging him around was a bad idea.” 

“Pretty sure he’s better off with us than alone in a room with no nurse,” Sam says. 

“I agree with Sam,” Cas says as he dabs at his mouth with a tissue. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine. But we’re taking you back to your room now. We’ll have our pow wow down there. And you’re going to lie down.” 

He realizes, when they're most of the way back to the room, that Cas didn't even try to argue. Which pretty much immediately makes him press the back of his hand against Cas’ forehead. “Christ, you’re warm.” 

“Dean, he’s probably dehydrated,” Sam says. 

“Huh?” Dean says. 

“You get a fever when you’re dehydrated,” Sam explains. 

“Oh,” Dean says. “Guess that calls for a prescription for more water then.” 

“I think I’ll only be sick again, Dean,” Cas says. 

“Well, let’s get you back in bed, you tell us about Medusa, and we’ll take it from there,” Dean says. “Sammy, here. Read Cas’ notes while I help him up.” 

“It’s not Medusa,” Cas says as he stands shakily and leans against Dean for support. Dean steers him onto the bed. 

“No?” Dean asks. 

“No,” Sam repeats as he thumbs through Cas’ notes. “Looks like Cas thinks if this were the real deal, everyone would have been turned into actual stone like they were in the myth.”

“And everyone here is just freeze framed,” Dean says. He rubs at his face. “But the kids telling stories about her and this happening. That’s got to mean something.” 

“Tulpa, maybe?” Sam says. “I don’t know how long or how many people need to believe in something before it becomes one.” 

“The belief of children, especially frightened ones, is greater than that of others,” Cas says. 

“Huh,” Sam says. “Well, Dr. Rivers did say that the two kids upstairs were suppose to have surgery tomorrow.” 

“So, you think that the kids heard these stories and were so freaked out already, they added a new nightmare into the mix?” Dean says. 

“Or perhaps they conjured a Tulpa or an entity similar to a Tulpa so they would not need to have their surgeries,” Cas suggests. 

“So they froze themselves to get out of it?” Dean asks. “These kids don’t know how to play hooky.” 

“Well,” Sam says, “maybe they didn’t mean to do that. Dr. Rivers said that the second person they found petrified was their surgeon. She didn’t seem to think that was a coincidence, and I don’t either.” 

“So what do we do?” Dean asks. 

“Make them stop believing in Medusa,” Sam says with a noncommittal shrug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think just one more chapter but not positive about that. I'll see how it goes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I lied. It's going to be 4 chapters. This chapter mostly resolves the plot of the case, but I wanted to do more with Dean/Cas after that. So, essentially, after this chapter, there will be Dean/Cas relationship things/domesticity in the bunker.

“You really can’t get this down?” Dean asks as Cas grimaces at the half full cup of water Dean’s trying to coax him into drinking. 

“I’m still very nauseous,” Cas says as he shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and firmly presses his eyes closed. “It won’t do the good you hope it will. Resting will help, though, I believe. You and Sam should go. Take care of the Tulpa.” 

“Cas,” Dean protests, “you need something. Or this is just going to get worse.” 

“Dean, if he can’t drink the water, he can’t drink the water,” Sam says. “Don’t force it on him.” 

Dean sighs before his eyes rest on the currently abandoned bag of saline solution standing a foot from the bed.

“Got a better idea, actually,” Dean says as he grips Cas’ wrist. Sam quirks his eyes. “Just gonna fix his IV.” 

He checks Cas’ hand for an open vein before he can second guess himself, sticks the needle in, and tapes it. When Cas tries to glare at him, an effect mostly lost under the glassy glaze of his fever, Dean growls, “Leave it in this time.” 

“Alright,” Cas says, sounding faintly startled. 

Sam stares in bewildered awe. “How do you know how to do that?”

“Was pretending to be a nursing student for a case once. Mostly learned setting these things is kind of a bitch,” Dean says casually as he sets Cas’ hand back down and pats it. "You good, Cas?"

“I....as good as I’m going to be,” Cas says, his voice faint. “But I am not your priority, Dean. The longer this creature roams the building the more unstable the hospital will become. Go.” 

“He’s got a point,” Sam says. “Look, I’m not wild about it either, but getting the hospital back on track is probably the best thing we can do.” 

“Yeah, well,” Dean mutters, “we don’t even know how to do a damn thing about the Tulpa. Don’t really think ‘hey, kids, Medusa’s not real’ is going to cut it. And we don’t even know for sure it is a friggin’ Tulpa.” 

“It is speculation, at best,” Cas says drowsily. “But if my understanding of Tulpa lore is correct, you can fight its manifestation as if it were the real monster.” 

“Yeah, but the belief in the monster has to grow for it to reach that point,” Sam says. “We kind of want to stop it before it goes that far.” 

“Why?” Cas asks. “The creature is not killing its victims, merely paralyzing them. Death is more likely to come from their inaction than anything. Perhaps anonymity is what it wants.” 

“You sure you’ve even got a fever, Cas?” Dean asks teasingly as he puts his hand against Cas' still burning forehead.

“I...yes?” Cas says, opening his eyes to squint curiously at Dean. “You said yourself I was warm.” 

Dean smiles softly at him before ruffling his hair. "That you are."

“Oh,” Cas says, as realization appears to dawn on him, “you wished to imply I should be...off my game?” 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean says, despite his reflexive jolt against Cas’ newfound use of idiom. “No one should be this on their game when they’re sick. Not fair to the rest of us." 

"Sorry?" Cas says. Dean snorts and ruffles his hair again before he catches Sam watching him with a bemused expression out of the corner of his eye. 

"Oh don't stop on my account, Dean," Sam says. "Just pretend I'm not even here. Because I'm not." 

With that, he ducks out of the room. 

"I, uh, I should go with him," Dean stutters as Cas watches him curiously. 

"That would be best," Cas says, though his conviction in what he's saying is a little lacking. 

XXX

Dean barely makes it into the hallway before the hospital PA system is turned on, and a shaky, high voice informs them that: 

“Due to the rapid and unexplained spread of a condition causing complete paralysis, this facility is under quarantine until further notice. More information will be provided when it is available. Roaming the halls is not advised. Please remain calm and remain where you are.” 

“Don’t go causing panic or anything,” Dean mutters into his hand as he watches a handful of worried looking individuals scurry either towards the nearest exit or back into their rooms. 

“Well, at least we know it’s not a Tulpa now,” Sam says. 

“We do?” Dean asks. 

“Well, if it were a Tulpa they wouldn’t think this was a disease,” Sam says. 

“Right. They would think it was Medusa,” Dean scrubs at his face. “I’d say we need to hit the books, but don’t know how we’re going to get out of here now.”

“You, uh, aren’t,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice announces uncertainly. Before Dean even has a chance to turn around, something connects with the back of his head. 

XXX 

Dean doesn’t know how much time has passed when he wakes up tied inexpertly to a desk, less than two feet from Sam. He’s guessing, based on how easily he works his wrists free, that whoever tied them up has never done it before. 

He leans over Sam and shakes his shoulder. “Sammy, come on, let’s get out of here before someone’s got a chance to take Kidnapping and Hostages 101.” 

“Kidnapping and Hostages 101? Oh god, you’re talking about me. I did kidnap you. And I paralyzed everyone. Oh god,” It’s the same voice from before, the voice from before something hard and heavy hit him. Dean looks up to see it belongs to a doctor in her late twenties looking wide eyed and hysterical. “It wasn’t... it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was just...I was jealous of Patrick. Perfect Patrick getting my fellowship. And I think I sort of conjured a monster?” 

“You wanted to get ahead at your job, so you opened a friggin spellbook?” Dean asks. “Great plan.” 

Sam, awake now, puts his hand up to Dean before turning to the woman. “Hey, what’s your name?” 

“Tabitha,” she says as she dabs at her eyes. 

“Tabitha, can you tell us what you did exactly? What makes you think you conjured something?” Sam asks. 

“I work in the children’s ward,” she says. “And, uh, one of the kids that comes in for a treatment every couple of days, he tells the other kids stories, usually ones from Greek mythology. Medusa’s been his favorite for a couple weeks. And, well, I just started thinking, what if I could freeze Patrick? Suspend him in time or something? Then I could have the fellowship. And I just kept thinking it. And I wasn’t going to do anything, I swear. I didn’t mean to do anything. But this...this is all my fault. It has to be. And then I heard you two talking about Medusa, and I don’t know...I snapped.” 

She waves her hand over them. “I’m really sorry about this. The whole knocking you out and tying you to my desk thing. I just didn’t know what to do. I know this doesn’t really make up for it, at all, but we have pie in the break room, if that helps.” 

“Dean, I really don’t think she conjured a monster. At least, not intentionally,” Sam says. “I think something was feeding off her thoughts.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says waving his hand impatiently. “What flavor is this pie?” 

“Dean, focus,” Sam says at the same time as Tabitha says, “Pumpkin.” 

“Think I can get a slice of that to go?” Dean says. “And, I’m very focused, Sam. I’m thinking cursed object?” 

Sam nods in annoyed agreement as Dean’s phone buzzes. He waves for Sam to head into the hall as he answers it. “You okay, Cas?” 

“I could use some help getting back to my room and my bed,” Cas says. 

“You aren’t in your room and your bed?” Dean asks. “Why the hell not?” 

“The puzzle,” Cas says. “I realized it was the puzzle.” 

“The puzzle?” Dean repeats skeptically. “What puzzle?” 

“I wish you would have answered when I called you an hour ago,” Cas says. 

“Me and Sam, we sort of got kidnapped," Dean pinches at his temple. "Where are you, Cas?” 

Cas doesn’t answer and the sound of rhythmic breathing starts to fill the line. “Cas, don’t you go falling asleep on me. Don’t.” 

When he still doesn’t get a response, he looks up at Sam. “Damn it. He fell asleep. I don’t know where he is, and he fell asleep.” 

“Dean, hey, we’ll find him,” Sam says before warily putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I mean, how many places in the hospital have puzzles? And the only place he’s probably been? The children’s ward.” 

“The Parthenon puzzle,” Tabitha gasps. “That couldn’t be cursed? Could it?” 

“I’m guessing it could,” Sam says. “Let’s go find out.” 

XXX 

It is obvious, the moment they step into the hall, that whatever Cas had done to destroy the Parthenon puzzle, had worked. There are so many bewildered people being hugged in the hallway that it is difficult to navigate. 

However, Tabitha, Sam, and Dean do ultimately manage to find Cas in the children’s playroom slumped against the side of his wheelchair, fast asleep, one hand dutifully clutched around his IV stand. 

He stirs momentarily when Dean lifts him back onto his bed. “I did it? I ‘ganked’ the monster?” 

“Yeah, Cas, you did. You did good,” Dean says. “Now get some sleep. That’s an order.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this got away from me. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Although he stirs briefly a number of times in the meanwhile, Cas doesn’t truly wake up again until it’s going on 3 a.m., when he decides it’s a good idea to startle Dean out of a dead sleep. “Dean.” 

Dean draws his knife out of his pocket before letting where he is and who he’s with register. “God damn it, Cas. I could have stabbed you.” He rubs a hand over his face, letting himself relax, before he places it against the bed rail. “Well, now that I’m up, how you feeling?” 

“I’m fine,” Cas says, though his wince as he swallows and his still pale complexion suggests otherwise. 

“Really? Because you look and sound terrible,” Dean says as he fixes him with a hard stare. “The truth, Cas.” 

“You don’t want me to lie about this?” Cas asks before leaning back into the pillows. “It seems I still don’t understand the rules.” 

“You...what?” Dean asks, feeling like he’s decidedly not awake enough for whatever he and Cas are about to discuss. ‘What rules?” 

“Your rules. If I say that you look terrible, even though you do, you’re upset. You wish that I had lied. You’ve said as much,” Cas swallows and winces again and Dean wishes he’d stop talking, both because this has all the marks of being an uncomfortable conversation and because it’s obviously physically hurting him. “But when the situation is reversed, you want me to tell you truthfully how I feel... I don’t get it.” 

“So, I’m a hypocrite? Been called worse,” Dean says. 

“If ‘hypocrite’ is the word you would chose,” Cas says. “I prefer confusing. I find you very confusing.” 

“Makes you feel any better, that makes two of us. You confuse the hell out of me,” Dean says.

“How?” Cas asks. 

“Well,” Dean has a list of reasons he’d prefer to get into somewhere else that he decides, for the moment, to gloss over, “right now, you say you’re fine, but, you woke me up, right? Either you need something or finally got you convinced that watching people sleep is creepy.” 

“I...I can’t sleep,” Cas says. “I... my throat. It hurts.” 

One look at Cas tells Dean he’s fully aware of how obvious he’s being, which just makes Dean laugh. “Well, hate to break it to you, but that’s kind of what happens when you get your tonsils out. But, you know, Cas, pretty sure shutting your trap would help.” 

Cas rolls his eyes a little at that, and Dean ruffles his hair. 

“Really that bad, huh?” Dean asks, moving his hand to Cas’ shoulder and resting it there. 

“I really can’t sleep because of it,” Cas says as he relaxes into Dean’s touch. 

“Okay, well, we’re going to get you something to help,” Dean says, letting his finger rest above the nurse call button. “Just...uh, promise me you won’t become some hippie drug addict first?” 

At that Cas’ eyes shoot up, as though this idea is somehow both preposterous and offensive. He opens his mouth to ask, but Dean puts his finger against Cas’ lips. He shouldn’t have brought this up, but now that he has... 

“Look, it’s...it was years ago. That dick Zachariah zapped me into the future or something. Not this future, another one. And you’re...you’re not like you then or future you wherever he frigging zapped me,” Dean says as he pulls his hand back to run it over the back of his neck. “I guess, you’re not who you could have been. You’re...you’re hacking it as a human. But, man, that version of you that couldn’t, he...well, he scared the shit out of me. I, I don’t ever want you to get like that.” 

“I...I was a drugged out hippie?" Cas asks. "That...that does not sound like me.” 

“Believe me, it was one hell of a surprise,” Dean says as he presses the call button. “You were kinda into orgies too.” 

Cas shoots him another disbelieving look as Dean leans back in his chair. 

“But, you know something, when I saw us, future us, still working together, I knew," Dean knows he's on the brink of admitting something here -- not the big thing. Not now. Not yet. He’s not ready. "Knew I was stuck with you."

“You make that sound like a good thing,” Cas says. 

“Because it is,” Dean says as he rubs his hand down Cas’ shoulder. “Now shut the hell up.” 

Cas does, and once they get more meds in him, they both doze off until late the next morning when Sam calls asking when they’re heading back to the bunker. 

XXX 

Dean’s holding Cas, who’s kind of limp and half-asleep, up by the elbow as he drags him towards his bed, as he finds an unexpected obstacle. 

“Uh, Sam, why the hell is there a cot in Cas’ room?” 

Sam pokes his head of his own room and shakes his head a little. “You want to sleep in Cas’ bed?” 

“Uh, no,” Dean says sharply enough that Cas cocks his head up and stares at him dazedly. “Why the hell would I?” 

“Well, you want to check up on him?” Sam asks. 

“Well, yeah,” Dean ducks his head and nudges Cas forward. “There’s some freaky nonsense the nurses said we’ve got to watch out for. Doesn’t mean were having a slumber party.” 

Sam smiles and nods. “Okay. You figure this one out on your own, mother hen.” 

Dean's about to rebuff that when Cas says, “I would appreciate the company.” 

Of course he would. Dean sighs as Sam, the bastard, smirks at him. “Well, I’m going through more lore on cursed objects that can produce physical manifestations. So, I’ll see you guys later. Feel better, Cas.” 

As he disappears down the hall, Cas tugs at Dean’s arm. “Whether you’re going to join me or not, I would very much like to be on the bed. Preferably before I fall on the floor.” 

“Yeah, uh, right,” Dean says as he tries to pull himself out of his own head long enough to get Cas settled.

Once he does, Cas grasps his wrist. “I do not think I can sleep again yet....or concentrate well enough to read. What am I meant to do?” 

“Well, me and Sam, when he got his out, we, uh, we watched movies, ate popsicles, and, uh... “ Dean trails off as he’s reminded of another unnerving version of Cas, “played board games. Kinda need Sammy’s laptop for movies. So, uh, games and popsicles it is.” 

“There are board games in the bunker?” Cas asks, looking far more hopeful than Dean would like, though he deflates a little at Dean’s look, “I do understand if you don’t want to play Sorry!” 

“Definitely not. But, uh, think there’s some stuff in the library. Course, knowing the Men of Letters, it’s probably just chess and parcheesi. We ain’t doing that. On principle. Besides...” 

Dean leans down and presses his hand to Cas’ temple. “Yep. Still got a fever. No strategy games for you.” 

Cas smirks a little at this. 

“What?” 

“I believe I would still be fairly adept at them, as it has been my ...purpose for the past millennia,” Cas says, before starting to rub at his throat. 

“And yet you still can’t get it through your head that talking is making your throat worse,” Dean says teasingly as he picks up the glass of water Sam’s left on Cas’ nightstand. “Here. You work on this. I’ll tackle the library.” 

XXX

After Dean ransacks the library's recreational shelf and finds twelve different chess sets -- two of which were probably cursed -- he comes back with a checkerboard and a deck of cards only to find Cas sound asleep. 

“Lucky for you, I didn’t hit the frozen aisle yet,” Dean huffs before starting to eye the cot with resignation. 

He knows Sam is right. 

He wants to still be here when Cas wakes up. 

And it's not like Cas needs him there. The guy’s a grown man -- he's like a billion for god's sakes -- and definitely has the training of a warrior. He can take care of himself. 

It's just...Dean wants to take care of him. He feels responsible for Cas’ human vulnerability. 

So he sits down on the cot and watches the even fall and rise of Cas' chest, under the frayed quilt and loose fitting t-shirt, letting it remind him of what Cas has chosen to become. 

It cuts at something inside him -- makes him feel all too much for this single being. 

And he thinks he understands now, why Cas used to watch him. Cas was in awe of his human existence, wondering, in his boundaryless way what it felt like. And now that Dean knows that he knows what it's like and still chose it, Dean's in awe of it himself. 

He means to move away and do something else, something less weird and creepy. But he's still doing it ten minutes later when Cas moans in his sleep and starts twitching erratically. 

Dean looks to both sides, like he’s looking for oncoming traffic instead of his brother and other reasons to not give into his feelings, before he climbs onto the bed next to Cas and starts rubbing his hand down his shoulder and arm in soothing motions, chasing away whatever unpleasant dreams Cas has. 

Shortly after, Cas blinks up at him bleary-eyed, “I fell asleep?” 

“Yeah. Kind of hard to teach you how to play Rummy when you’re catching forty winks,” Dean says as he reaches for the deck of cards. “Maybe we’ll consider moving on to Risk when you can stay awake for more than three hours.” 

“Perhaps we should avoid the prospect of world domination altogether,” Cas says. “I think it may be a touchy subject... since I, uh,...” 

Dean exhales sharply. “Cas, you, you never wanted to rule the world. You had some seriously rose colored glasses about fixing it, and that doesn’t mean you were right, because, god knows you weren’t. But, man, I get it. I’ve worn my own.” 

Dean rubs roughly at where the Mark of Cain once was before scooting closer to Cas and wrapping his arm over his shoulder. “Do we know how to screw up or what?” 

“We have often made egregious miscalculations about the consequences of our own actions,” Cas nods before taking several long sips of his water. “In my own experience, I have found that there are always variables that I have failed to account for. And often, Dean, that variable has been you...and how my actions would affect you, but more so, how they would make you feel...” 

Dean ducks his head. “Yeah, well... you’re human, because of me."

Cas squints at him. “You think I find this disagreeable?” 

“You’re...Cas,” Dean sputters, because he’s not even sure how to line the words up. Of course Cas finds this disagreeable. How could he not? “You used up your grace healing the damn mark and now you’re this. You’re just ...” 

Dean waves his hand over him, like that explains it. 

“I’m like you? Like Sam?” Cas poses. “Dean, earlier, you said I was ‘hacking’ this -- being human. Did you not mean that?” 

“No, I meant it. You’re doing as well as the rest of us,” Dean says. “But that’s not... Cas, you... you don’t want to be human, do you?” 

“You think that I made this decision lightly?” Cas’ voice takes on a dangerous edge. It’s gruff with physical and emotional pain and Dean hates it. “I knew what I would lose. I also knew what I would gain.” 

Cas takes both of Dean’s hands in his own and grips them tightly. “You.” 

“But you don’t even have me,” Dean says. He thinks of Cas’ grace, white and blue and silver, twisting its way through his veins and etching itself into his very core. He knows why Cas did this. The real reason. And it wasn’t just to save him. 

“I do have you,” Cas says. “I love you, Dean, and I believe you love me. Perhaps you will never say the words. Perhaps you will never kiss me. That is alright. I am content with what I know.” 

“Well, I’m not,” Dean says before pressing his forehead to Cas’. It’s still warm, and he thinks, maybe, this isn’t the best idea at the moment. 

Cas’ lips find his anway. 

XXX 

“Can you two stop, for like an hour?” Sam asks from outside the closed the door. “I’m never going to figure out what made the monster in the hospital show up if you keep this up.” 

“I knew what it was,” Cas says, which Dean repeats, since Cas’ voice is practically inaudible. "Did I not tell you, Sam? 

“No, you didn’t,” Sam says. “What was it? And how did you know it was the puzzle that was cursed anyway?” 

“The puzzle had a bad aura,” Cas says. 

“Okay, then...” Dean says as Cas brushes his hand away from his forehead. "More Tylenol for you."

“I ...it didn’t register when I was there with the children. But it did not belong. Medusa is not depicted on the Parthenon, yet she was on the puzzle turning a man to stone," Cas says. 

“Think we’ve destroyed objects on less,” Dean says as Cas glares at him for interrupting. “But go on.” 

“I believe the puzzle was being used as a talisman for stalling,” Cas says. 

“Well, we kind of figured that part out already,” Sam says. “But we still don’t know who cursed it originally or why.” 

“Oh,” Cas says. “So, whoever cursed the puzzle, he or she is still out there?” 

“Or they’re long dead,” Sam says. “That puzzle wasn’t exactly new. I... guys, are you dressed? Can I open the door?” 

“Sammy, we’re playing checkers,” Dean says as he watches in frustration as Cas kings another piece. 

“Really? I can hear you on the other side of the bunker.” 

“Dean is a sore loser and an enthusiastic winner,” Cas says. “It is surprising all of the pieces are still accounted for.”

**Author's Note:**

> [catalogercas](http://catalogercas.tumblr.com)


End file.
